My name is Brittany.
I am an egg donor. I helped a couple bring two gorgeous twin girls into this world. All those extra embryos? (Seventeen to be exact) They were donated to science, and I hope that they helped figure out better ways to help infertility patients and couples trying to have children.
I am an infertile myself. Unexplained infertility. On paper, everything should work, but it doesn't, and I know many of you understand why this is beyond frustrating. It was almost four years of trying, tears & heartache before we welcome baby Lucas into our arms.
I am a miscarriage survivor. I went to the hospital one Friday night because of some bleeding, even though the nurses told me everything was fine. At 3am that Friday night/Saturday morning, all alone, with nobody with me (my husband was deployed) I found out I had lost the baby. I drove myself home. It took two days before I could get a hold of my husband to inform him. I also drove myself to the hospital for my D&C. My boss picked me up afterwards.
I have fought depression because of my infertility. My miscarriage threw me into a nasty downward spiral. One that I will never forget & one that I never want to see again.
A couple of Christmases ago, I drank a bottle & a half of wine because my best friend -- MY BEST FRIEND -- called me and told me that she was pregnant after her first month of trying. I cried -- sobbed -- for two days straight afterwards because I was incapable of being happy for her at that moment. To this day, I get angry when it is so easy for some, and yet still so hard for others. Life is not fair.
After all of this, and ONLY after this? I am a mother. Every day that I look at my son & think about the one on the way, I remember the road it took to get here. It may not have been as lengthy or as complicated, but it was messy and painful. I don't talk about it as often, because it brings back extremely bad memories, especially the year following my miscarriage. That time was one of the darkest times of my life, and not one that I like to bring to the surface.
But it doesn't mean I don't remember. Every day, I think about our struggle. Just because I have a child, doesn't mean I have forgotten. It doesn't mean that my heart doesn't hurt for those still trying, or that I don't feel the pain that others feel when bad things happen in their journey. I do my best to reach out to as many as I can, but sometimes I miss things.
So if you are in need of an ear, or feeling lost, lonely & without support, please know I am here. Whether I know you or not.
Because I promise. I may not talk about it every single day, but the memories are still very much alive.